


the silken morning sunlight

by seventhstar



Series: a covenant with a bright blazing star [25]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Regency, Communication, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Regency Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: “I don’t recall you being this difficult before,” Viktor grumbled as as they boarded the carriage. Yuuri has continued to pay the servants at the townhouse, and they were embarrassingly welcoming. The townhouse is immaculate. Yuuri’s only complaint is that he and Viktor have separate chambers, which means the room they are sharing is smaller than their chamber at home.“Invalids have to be humored,” Yuuri said, laughing, even as Viktor glared at him and froze the cup of tea Yuuri was drinking solid.[part of an ongoing series of fics, telling the story of poor and scandalous trademan's son viktor nikiforov's marriage of convenience to the reclusive lord katsuki]





	the silken morning sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> warning: in this chapter no one misunderstands anyone

After nearly half an hour of debate, Viktor agreed to at least attempt a shopping trip, and if that was a success, to consent to dinner with Phichit. Yuuri was not satisfied with that, but arguing with Viktor further was pointless. (So he wrote to Phichit to ask for his box at the theatre, and for an invitation to dinner, tonight. Phichit will understand if they cry off at the last minute.)

“I don’t recall you being this difficult before,” Viktor grumbled as as they boarded the carriage. Yuuri has continued to pay the servants at the townhouse, and they were embarrassingly welcoming. The townhouse is immaculate. Yuuri’s only complaint is that he and Viktor have separate chambers, which means the room they are sharing is smaller than their chamber at home.

“Invalids have to be humored,” Yuuri said, laughing, even as Viktor glared at him and froze the cup of tea Yuuri was drinking solid.

So here they are, on Bond Street. Viktor is wearing a dark blue hat, with all his hair braided and pinned so that it is concealed by the hat entirely. Yuuri does not recall ever seeing it, so he assumes that it is an illusion (thought that begs the question of why Viktor doesn’t change the color of his hair.)

Shoppers are scarce this early in the morning; there are a few fashionable hours where omegas can and should shop, it seems, and to be seen too late or too early is a sin against propriety. Viktor insisted that they come as early as possible. Yuuri didn’t even have enough time to melt his tea. While not every shop is open, with Viktor’s purchases held precariously under one arm, Yuuri can hold Viktor’s hand with the other.

In addition to be pleasant, this also has the advantage of allowing Yuuri to keep up with Viktor, who is walking very quickly and with great purpose, and examining the wares in each shop with great intensity.

“Do you even need me?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Viktor says, “who is going to carry my purchases otherwise?” He looks back at Yuuri. “You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says, and it’s true. He’s spent little time in this part of London; it’s not tinged with grief the way other, more familar areas are.

Having bought a hat and various accouterments, Viktor stops outside a shop with the curtains drawn and the door locked. Viktor flicks his fingers at the door to unlock it, and lets himself in. Yuuri is not sure that is allowed, or legal, but he closes the door behind them and sets the parcels down on the nearest chair. The shop is dark, with nothing laid out over the tables the way there would be if there were customers.

“Are we allowed in here?”

“She can’t throw us out in the middle of the morning.”

“Viktor.”

“I wonder if she still…” Viktor, with what Yuuri feels is a cavalier attitude about trespassing, walks over to a dresser against the wall, pries open three drawers, and produces a battered tin. He opens it and produces two biscuits. “Here.”

_“Viktor.”_

“You look hungry.”

Yuuri is hungry. He and Viktor arrived in town yesterday, just in time to reach the bank before it was closed. He was prepared for a protracted argument, but Viktor expressed to the bank manager how disappointed he was that the bank condoned fraud, and Yuuri expressed how reluctant he was to have to choose another bank. A half hour passed while they drank tea in the bank manager’s office, and then the manager returned, to assure them that the matter had been dealt with, the money returned to its rightful place, and of course the bank would maintain complete confidentiality. (And unspoken, they hoped that Yuuri would also decide to never speak of the matter again.)

The sheer relief lifted Yuuri beyond hunger, or thirst, or any paltry physical need. It is only now, biscuit in hand, that he recalls forgoing breakfast in their haste to get out of the house. He bites into the biscuit. It’s flaky and sweet. _No wonder appointments at a modiste always take so long,_ Yuuri thinks, _if they get to eat there._ He takes a second bite, and is in the process of swallowing it when a lamp lights and the modiste enters.

The omega that enters is tall and thin, with the sharp features of a gothic governess and an incongruously cheerful butter-yellow pelisse. She looks down at Viktor with green eyes and a cat-like disdain.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Never,” Viktor says.

“I have told you to write before you visit.”

“I need a wardrobe,” Viktor says.

“You left town without a word.”

“A large wardrobe.”

“Yakov did not know where you were, either.”

“The measurements you have will have to be taken in.”

“Vitya, you are not going to brazen through this conversation merely because you do not wish to have it.”

“I left town because my aunt bribed this Viscount,” Viktor gestures to Yuuri, “to marry me, and I was obliged to go without arranging for anything to be made.” He smiles; it has a shallow quality to it, whatever discomfort Viktor feels bubbling through. “Did my aunt not speak to you?”

“Her solicitor corresponded with us.” She looks severely at Yuuri; he wonders by her accent if she is some unknown relative of Viktor’s that Yuuri ought to impress. Though if Viktor has a relative who is a dressmaker, he ought to have more than one shirt. “I understand that you are acquainted with Minako Okukawa.”

Is Lilia one of Minako’s friends? Does that bode well or not? Yuuri gulps. “Yes, she is my aunt.”

“Hmph. He is adequate. Good breeding, at least.”

“He’s not a horse, Lilia,” Viktor says. “Yuuri, this is Lilia Baranovskaya.”

“Leave your direction, I will have some things sent on.” Lilia takes out a sheet of paper and a drawing pencil, sits down, and begins drawing.

“…aren’t you going to ask me what it is I want made?”

“No.”

Viktor sighs. He takes another biscuit out of the tin and eats it, blatantly, while Lilia is right there, before closing up the tin and putting it back in the drawer where he found it. Yuuri picks up Viktor’s purchases—at least he will not have to haul Viktor’s new wardrobe about at this moment—and bows awkwardly in Madame Baranovskaya’s direction. Viktor opens the door, and steps out; Yuuri is on the point of following him.

_If we are going to the theater, Viktor will want something to wear_ _…_

“Would it be possible for you to have something made before this evening?”

Madame Baranovskaya raises her eyebrows at him. They are very clearly drawn on.

“We are going to the theater,” Yuuri admits, “and I wanted to surprise him.”

“…very well. I will have it delivered.”

“Thank you. Ah. You can forward the bill to me as well…”

“That,” she says, “will not be necessary.”

Yuuri does not care to argue with her. Historically, he has never won an argument with Minako; he has merely stopped arguing with her and then done whatever he wanted to do, risking whatever approbation she might have. He can always have a bank draft sent later. His hands occupied, he has to spell the door open again before he can exit.

Viktor is waiting for him on the street outside. He falls into step beside Yuuri as they walk; the sunlight makes Yuuri’s eyes water. There are more vehicles driving by now, and groups of omegas out shopping. No one Yuuri recognizes, but Viktor must see someone he does; he looks over his shoulder and walks faster.

“I thought your modiste was French?”

“Oh, she is,” Viktor says. “In a sense. She would sketch designs for me and I would pay her half the price of whatever the clothing would have cost. I only needed an image, after all.”

“But Madame Baranovskaya has your measurements?”

“She made the shirt I was wearing.”

“Is she kin of yours, or…?”

Viktor looks at him sharply. Yuuri waits for him to deflect, or to brazen through, as Lilia put it, but at that moment their carriage pulls up. The footman takes the packages out of Yuuri’s hands, and Yuuri lends Viktor an entirely superfluous hand up into the carriage. The parcels piled up on one seat, Viktor takes the one at Yuuri’s side.

“…I cannot tell you,” Viktor says, finally. “Not without betraying a confidence.”

“Of course, I—”

“I wish I could,” Viktor goes on. “Your sister would be even better.”

“I—what?” Yuuri has no idea what Viktor is talking about, or what Mari could advise him about, unless Viktor has a mind to learn the art of espionage, or putting frogs in people’s hats. Hearing that Viktor would tell him, if he could, is deeply gratifying. He puts a hand on Viktor’s knee and leans in, close enough that the strand of hair on Viktor’s cheek brushes his face. “How do you feel about theater?”

**Author's Note:**

> yes i know it's wednesday but in my defense time is a fake bitch
> 
> updates might be non-chronological for a while but hopefully they will be on mondays again
> 
> comments are appreciated <3
> 
> you can find me [on tumblr](http://pencilwalla.tumblr.com/) or [on pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/seventhstar) or [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/starofseventh)


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